


i don’t want tender (not when tenderness is a word your mouth can’t even start to form)

by demonn



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: A brief mention of a person who may be Wade Wilson, A little angst, Alcohol, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blowjobs, Bondage using a belt, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Bucky breaks this one guys fingers for slapping his ass, Excessive use of pet names, Exhibitionism???, Hair Pulling, Identity Porn, Implied Daddy Kink, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Kind of rushed, Light Dom/sub, M/M, NSFW, Ok that’s all for the first chapter, Rough Sex, Tony gets very turned on, Top Tony Stark, Torture, back alley blowjobs, blood mentions, declerations of love, i Just churned this out in a couple of hours so sorry if it’s shit, lile Tony calls himself daddy once it’s pitiful, mentions of sensual deprivation in form of torture, mob!au sort of, more blowjobs, more smut, ok, semi-public blowjobs, softish at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-10-24 05:21:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17698427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demonn/pseuds/demonn
Summary: Because, you see, the man was beautiful. Clean cut, knife sharp, shady in a way Bucky would never be able to put his finger on. He had brown eyes, warm but warm like whiskey would be, with that slight edge of burning resting in his gaze. He longed to run his fingers through his thick brown hair, feel the fluffiness beneath his fingers, but he was content being pulled around by those thick calloused hands that seemed to know just how to handle him, even if Bucky had never said.





	1. All I am is loving you

**Author's Note:**

> Ok this is really nsfw but I couldn’t help myself. After all the writing I’ve been attempting for my other fics I just wanted to unwind and read something that didn’t make me want to angst. The best way to combat angst? Smut.
> 
> I feel like some bits could have been better but I think I’ll clear it all up in the future. It’s likee, 00:30 here in London when I’m writing this and I’m pretty sure I can feel the chaos in my head but I wanted to get this up really bad due to the fact that I don’t feel like I’ve posted anything in a long time. I don’t know. I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> ❤️❤️❤️

The Bucky wasn't a stranger to the dangers of the underworld, the places where demons existed outside of you head. The places where sometimes your demons curled their hand around you waist and kissed you senseless.

It meant that he wasn't a stranger to people's whispered tales of ironman, of the hellhounds, of rust and diamonds and fire.

The man ,who was a god in all but name and blood, was rendered perfection in their world; dirty, just and altogether unobtainable. He led a life some people couldn't even begin to dream of, a life Bucky couldn't even begin to dream of.

Most people had never even seen his face, even heard his name slip past his lips, even gotten a glimpse of his tail-coats. If anything, it made him all the more respected. To not get caught, too keep such a small circle in their business? It was a sign of status, a sign that you couldn't be used and abused, not ever. It was all part of the allure, anyway.

Bucky was sure he had met him before (he'd met almost everyone before) but because of all the close cut lines and haze that made up his image, he could never be sure. It wasn't like the man operated under a certain name anyway, not with the way he ran things.

Bucky liked to think of him like victory, like hades on his throne of gold and blood. Like a cooking snake around your spine, crushing and crushing but always warm, always tricking you into believing it loved you until your windpipe broke and you had to admit that it all felt a bit too tight and too warm and too crushing-

But by then you were gone and you existed only in memory.

Frank (Castle, the Knight, the beast of gathering underground) liked to pass around the story of the girl he once knew, hand curled around Billy Russo so tenderly, like he couldn't kill with those same hands. Liked to say how she was there one day and gone the next, liked to talk about how she'd thought she had tricked him, stumped him, gotten him wrapped around her little finger. Liked to talk about how she'd kept those same thoughts until she was shot, execution style, and her organs sold on the back market, her tongue slid under his doorstep as a warning to keep his mouth shut.

Bucky swore he didn't find it amazing. It wasn't like he hadn't built up his own reputation. Winter soldier. Former fist of Hydra that had brought down the organisation almost single handedly. The man with the arm of metal. The man who could kill you with his arms tied behind his back. The man who could see in the dark, who could hear your heartbeats as clear as a gunshot on a silent night. To Bucky, it may as well have been a gunshot on a silent night.

But nothing, no one, had ever lived up to the legend of iron man. The man who didn't just have his fingers in every pie, but probably owned the pie as well. The man who had been rumoured to have fed Alexander Pierce's heart to his dogs. The man who had been fated to take over their world one way or another. Richer than god, tougher than the devil, more damned than any individual on earth. And god, did Bucky love him for it.

-

As much as the winter soldier was loved, Bucky Hubbard was adored. The easy going, seductive, bad-ass who seemed to appear in whatever shady bar held the most men. He was regarded as angel-like; sweet and fluffy with a aftertaste of something sharp, something bloody-tasting. Something that reminded you of triumph. He was, in a way.

He was triumphant because he was everything the regular Bucky and winter soldier wouldn't, but could, be. He was triumphant because he could wrap all these people around his finger with nothing more than a heated glance. He was triumphant because people wouldn't fuck with him, because people could tell he would lure you to your death. He was triumphant because no man dared to put a wandering hand on him without his permission, no man would touch him or kiss him or even think about him without his admission. No man would ever hurt him without his word.

(No man would ever be able to hurt him, regardless. Not since Steve anyway. No man would ever get close enough to him, ever wrap their fingers around his psyche, and hurt him. No man would ever carve their presence into him, not since Steve proved that no man could be trusted. Not since Steve, not since Steve, not since-)

It was the reason why he was distracted. He was always stumped when a man wanted the real him (the Bucky Barnes, the cutting and biting and tearing) over the sweet, the sultry, Bucky Hubbards. It stumped him when a man could see past all the carefully constructed pathways and crosses and defence systems that made up Hubbards.

Bucky still sucked his dick, despite everything. Still wrapped his lips around his length and cut his eyes up at the smug bastard. Still licked and moaned and hummed in all the ways he knew would make a man fall to his knees for him. Still slid up and down his length and mewled when he spilled his cum down his throat, even if he was rude while he done all of it.

Because, you see, the man was beautiful. Clean cut, knife sharp, shady in a way Bucky would never be able to put his finger on. He had brown eyes, warm but warm like whiskey would be, with that slight edge of burning resting in his gaze. He longed to run his fingers through his thick brown hair, feel the fluffiness beneath his fingers, but he was content being pulled around by those thick calloused hands that seemed to know just how to handle him, even if Bucky had never said.

He pulled off with a pop, dutifully licking the cum away from the corner of his lip, arms crossed as he pouted. The man - Tony, he recalled - laughed, stroking a strong hand through his hair as he stood up.

"Aww, are you sad you didn't get to come," he said, voice slow and deep in his ear. "Would've thought that good boys like you could get off on just sucking a duck, you almost did, didn't you? But you can't, can you? Not without some mans thick, cock in your ass."

Bucky shivered, growling under his breath as the plates of his metal arm flexed. "You don't know shit about me, don't assume I wanna take it up the ass."

Tony simply laughed, that soft stroking hand turning into a sharp tug. "Oh, but Bucky darling. I can see it in your eyes, in the way you sucked my dick. Liked you longed for me to have you up by the wall."

And, god, he wasn't exactly wrong. Bucky did want him up his ass. He was magnificent; long and thick and curving just to side. The head of it was pink and leaking precum before Bucky had even gotten more than a hand on him. And his stamina? It was nothing like Bucky had ever seen. His jaw ached and his knees were sore from kneeling for so long. His jaw never ached before, not since he was 17 at least.

"See." Tony said, letting up on his hair even though the burning feeling remained. "Can't lie to me, babycakes. I know just what you want. Next time you see me, come up to me. If you don't? Go and find your pleasure somewhere else where the service is not as good and the men are not as rough."

"How do you know I like it rough?" Bucky crossed his arms, cheeks red and clothes disheveled. "How do you know I don't like it sweet and gentle? None of that kinky shit?"

Tony grinned at that, more vicious teeth than anything else. "Darling," he started, breathless, "I'm not a fool. Nor am I an idiot. Boys like you don't come to bars like this looking for soft and gentle. Where would you find that? In Bolivar, who leaves his boys bruised? In Evans, who swears he uses enough lube? In Olivier, who looks for boys who love like a knife? You aren't looking for soft, sweetheart. You're looking for rough."

"And you think you can perform better than any of the other lucky bastards in the spread eagle?" Bucky smirked, soft and slow and unusual on his face.

"Infinitely so, baby. Infinitely so."

-

Bucky didn't see him for weeks, too adrenaline drunk and alcohol drunk to notice if he saw the brown eyed man.

He'd pulled off a few missions in his downtime, still too strung on the feeling of being Bucky Barnes and not Bucky Hubbards with such a hot guy.

It was a regular club, just a little into the mysterious Ironman's extensive territory. The kind of club that done backroom dealings and mob meet-ups in the under-levels. The kind of club that Bucky could find someone to fuck him at and shake off after a while, the kind of club he thrived in.

He'd chosen not to drink more than a shot, just in case he had to make it home on his own instead of having Billy or Frank peel him off the floor, slurring but content.

He first spotted the man after dancing with this particularly mouthy blond. Taller than him, Canadian and horrifically burnt. Not that it put him off him, Bucky had seen his fair share of scars in his time, but I did make him more interesting than most. He'd waved him off after a while, searching for prey that could make him scream and beg and plead in ways the blond probably wouldn't be able to. He'd been watching him, Bucky could tell, tumbler of what looked like whiskey in hand and a phone in the other.

He looked different, cleaner than before. More business like and less auto shop repairman, like he was expecting someone. The sharp black suit showed off all his assets, the dip of his hips and the broadness of his shoulders. The way his Adam's Apple bobbed in the half light. The length of his long legs accented by the carefully tailored trousers.

Bucky caught his eye, shrugging as Tony raised his brow slowly, beckoning him forward. Bucky chose to go, wiping his hands on his shirt as he took a seat.

"I see you decided to come," Tony started in lieu of a greeting, calling for a bartender. "You'd be surprised how many people decide not to."

"You're interesting and hot and look like you'd be worth my while," Bucky said, voice barely audible over the music. "You'd be surprised how many people are lacking those qualities."

Tony barked out a laugh, leaning in to talk to the bartender. "A white negroni and anything the pretty boy would like."

"A fountain of youth, please. Easy on the vodka. One ice." The bartender nodded turning away and out of earshot of their conversation.

"Pomegranate?" Tony's eyebrow raised impossibly higher.

"I like the taste," Bucky said simply, reaching for his drink with a nod. "Plus I'm familiar with it. Obscure cocktails are kinda my thing. Ever since by friend introduced me to all his artistic cocktails-"

Bucky shut off at the memory of Steve and mixing cocktails at 12am, the thought bringing bitterness to the front of his mind. In a wild bid to shut himself up, he took a sip, relishing in the spicy ginger flavour and the sharp spike of vodka in the back of his throat.

"I like to stick to familiar things, but I've been convinced once or twice to try something new. I stick to whiskey though, and vodka on the off days," Tony said, swirling his drink in his hand. "Besides, I like the burn."

-

Tony kissed like love was a war and he had it all planned out to the last bite of his teeth on Bucky's tongue. He kissed like it was a battle and he was determined to live. Bucky was sure that violence was the man's mother tongue, he had never met someone so hell bent on sorting the edge just between pleasure and pain. So he'll bent on proving that yes, he could take this pleasure, but it would come with a price.

"Fuck," he hissed, his knees buckling as he fell onto the bed, Tony already crawling on top of him trying too undo his belt in a hurry. He keeper upwards. His groin meeting Tony's knee almost painfully, his chest heaving . his face was flushed pink from pleasure and pain alike when he turned to look at himself in the full length mirror.

Tony's hands crept up his hip, the rough calluses pressing into faded scars as he shifted, capturing Bucky's mouth into another bruising kiss as one hand snaked down to his zipper, pulling down his tight trousers in a fluid motion. "Oh come on baby," he whispered, hand sliding into his pocket to pull out a condom and a small bottle of lube. "Your gonna be a good boy right? Going to let me rough you up and bruise you and use your over and over again, huh?"

Bucky groaned, turning over until he was face down in the soft duvet, the skin of his thighs rubbing up against Tony's trousers. It was demeaning, knowing he was mostly naked while Tony was still fully clothed. It was humiliating and it made it all the more hotter.

The hand that had been undoing his zipper moved away, pulling down his trousers and shorts before pushing firmly into the small of his back, causing his spine to arch and push his ass into the air. A pillow slid under his hips, putting friction on his poor, aching dick.

"So, so pretty, all here ready for my use." Tony laughed, pulling Bucky's belt out from under him only to grab him by the wrists and snake it around them, pulling firmly to make sure it was tight. Bucky struggled, it was expected really, before falling slack when the other man delivered a sharp smack to his hip, causing new pain, however faint, to bloom. He was sure it would sting later, but he hadn't broken any skin and that meant it was all fine.

"We'll stick to red and yellow, no need for green at the moment. You want me to slow down say yellow, you want me to stop altogether, say red. I'm not interested in playing with boys who go past their own limits, too unsafe." His voice had dropped into that authoritative tone again, a growl on the edge as he tightened the belt once more. Pulling Bucky's shirt off his head and tugging sharply on his hair in one fluid motion, pulling his head back until they were eye to eye.

"Yes, sir," he strangled out, neck aching from the force. Tony let his head drop but kept a hand in his hair, though looser, as Bucky gasped for breath. The designation earned another low growl from Tony, bordering on a soft snarl. It made something sensual, heated, blossom in Bucky's stomach, just on the edge of all that pooling heat.

"See, already learning how it goes around here and I didn't even have to tell you." Bucky could feel Tony's smirk on the back of his neck, highlighted by the sharp nip that followed. God, it was painful, but he loved it and he loved having it done to him and he was already painfully hard even though Tony hadn't even touched his cock yet.

He could feel his thumb pressing into the base of his spine, a warning to keep still and keep the position he had pushed him into, followed by the slow skirt of a finger down his crack, followed by the cold spray of lube.

Bucky hissed, jerking forward before being pulled back by his hair, Tony's hand raising and hitting him on his left hip. And christ, that was going to be a nasty bruise in the morning. He repeated the action, pulling another sharp hiss, more a moan though, out of Bucky's throat.

"Keep still, sugarplums. 'Cause you won't like it when I aim to punish you properly, would you?" Tony laughed at his intake of breath, a finger circling his whole in an attempt to get him to relax. "Now relax, darling, because I'm sure you'll know it'll hurt if you don't."

Bucky nodded frantically, taking a few deep breaths in time with Tony's, pressing back into his finger diligently when he was ready.

"Eager," Tony uttered, sliding his lubed finger inside, stilling, then pulling it out. "You're clear right? Not just of STD's, no shit up that hole?"

Bucky nodded before gulping. "No shit. I gathered I would get laid and didn't want to fuck it up." Tony hummed appreciatively, before going back to sliding his finger in an out, drooling upwards slightly as he searched for Bucky's prostate.

"Smart, I guess you expected me after-"

"Just a habit," he tacked on, interrupting the older man. "Just wanted to find a guy willing to fuck me. Saturday afternoon ritual if you will."

"Whatever you say, darling." Another finger followed the first one, finally croaking upwards just right and nailing his prostate head on. Bucky moaned, desperate to touch his cock but with his hands tight behind his back, all he could do was keep dreaming. The plates and gears in his arm ground together as he twisted and turned, moaning and panting like a virgin.

It made him feel better about his own noise when he heard the soft grunts coming from Tony, the slow wet sound oh his hand on his cock as his fingers delved into his ass. He’d fit three up there, the fast paced noises broken by the sound of ripping foil and Tony grunting a bit harder. Bucky turned his head as far as it went, catching a glimpse of a condom on Tony’s magnificent cock.

“I’m going in now baby, how do you want it?” Tony said, softer than before. “Do you wanna see me, do you want it fast paced, slow? Rough? Want me to wait when I go on?”

“Don’t wait,” Bucky choked out. “Be as rough as you like.”

Tony hummed, his fingers curling onto his hip as he pushed in slowly, inch by inch sinking in, sliding out when he got halfway in only to slide back in until he was balls deep.

He paused for a second or two, before sliding out until only the tip remained then sliding back in.

Bucky mewled, his sensitive cock rubbing against the soft pillow, leaking precum all over his thighs, leaving them glossy and slick.

Tony sped up suddenly, the sound of their moans and the sound of skin on skin blending with the traffic noises and the thump of music that was so distinctively New York. He changed angle, hitting Bucky prostate head on, eliciting a high pitched yelp out of  him.

“Cum whenever you like, darling, just know it’s not ending until I’ve came, and then I want you to clean it all up.” Tony’s breath came out in short pants, the scrape of his trousers sliding off until the dropped off the bed with the thud of a belt Bucky. Tony eased his head back, capturing his lips in a bruising kiss that had him seeing stars.

After a few more thrusts, Bucky came, white hot and shivering as he cried out, clenching around Tony’s dick as he melted uselessly between the bracket of his bronze arms. He came with the other mans name on his lips, stars in his eyes and a lust driven haze clouding his brain.

He could still feel Tony pounding into him, more erratic, faster. He continued for around a dozen more strokes before he stilled, pulling out to tie the condom and throw it into the bin. His shuffled up until his pelvis was level with Bucky’s face, guiding the man to his dick.

“You clean?” He slurred, eyes half lidded and his gaze focused on the mess of cum on the mans cock. Tony nodded and he dove straight in as far as the grip in his hair allowed him too. He licked slowly, tongue running over the head a few times before swirling around the top of the shaft before he lengthened his tongue for a couple of broad streaks, cleaning the last of the mess from him.

“So pretty,” Tony whispered, “such a good boy. Done such a good job for me.”

He eased himself away, making gentle shushing sounds when Bucky started to whine, releasing the other man's wrists before moving to what he presumed was the bathroom. He came back a moment later, holding a damp, warm cloth, easily turning Bucky over to clean away the cum in him. “Such a good boy...” he continued, throwing the rag off to the side and pulling him close to his chest. “My good boy, aren’t you. Wanna keep you with me for months you’re such a good boy. The best I’ve ever had.”

Bucky keened, the sound so like the Bucky Barnes that came back from the throes of passion with only affection on his mind. “Really? Do you really think so?”

“Of course,” Tony answered, just as soft. “Of course.”


	2. I’m an extension of your pain

The last time Bucky had fallen asleep with another person in his bed, Steve had kissed him goodbye as they both cried as they'd clung onto each other, trying to kid themselves into thinking they could have made it work.

But Bucky couldn't keep boys with eyes like clear waters and hair like sunshine. He couldn't keep boys who's laughter sounded like joy, boys that could pull artwork out of their fingertips, boys that could make suffering look beautiful. Bucky couldn't keep boys like Steve, not if he wanted both of them to stay alive. He couldn't keep him, not when blood still stained under his nails and matted his hair. Sure, he came home looking proper and decent and clean, but it was always there, lingering. So, so red. So pungent and warm that not even a boy like Steve could make artwork out of it. Not even a boy like Steve could make the scars on his knuckles look like anything but scars. Not even a boy like Steve could trick him into believing it would all work out.

He'd fought, as much as it hurt him, and when the man left him, he left with claw marks on his body, left knowing he'd fought for what he'd wanted even though he had lost. Steve had left him knowing that yes, he did have to be dragged away kicking and screaming.

It had taken months, years, to realise that as much as he loved Steve, Steve had loved a ghost. He'd loved a phantom, he'd loved someone that wasn't even alive enough to love him back.

He'd gravitated to the rougher people after that, had let the darkness consume him and the bruises mark his body. He'd gone after people like Ashton and Gregor and Ruslan when he discovered that Conrad at the bakery and Elliot at the park would no longer satisfy him. Bit even then, sweat soaked and loose, he would always slip away before he could fall asleep and make his way home.

It was disconcerting waking up to another person in his bed, especially when the person was so unlike anyone he'd ever slept with. Tony wasn't made of sunshine and roses or sugar and spice. He was made of pomegranate seeds, rust and whispered promises. Broken backs and blood on dark oak. Bucky could see it in his eyes, as dark as the Oloroso sherry he'd downed just after he'd fucked Bucky through the mattress.

There was something about him that he would never be able to place his finger on. Something savoury under all the sweetness. Something that he would rather not know but probably needed to. (He needed to know everything he could, made for less casualties later when it all went to shit)

"You think too loud," Tony grumbled, turning over as the soft sheets shifted. "I liked it a lot more when you were all blissed out and cock-happy."

Bucky snorted, shaking his head. "I would have thought you liked a person who was quick on their feet. You give off that vibe."

"I give off many vibes," Tony purred, hand curling around Bucky's waist as he pressed small circles into his hip. "But vibes aren't always the best thing to go off of."

"I know that for sure, most people think I'm sweet. That I'll just turn over and take it."

"You do. You do turn over and take it and you can be sweet but you can also be sharp. You're not afraid to show your claws to anybody. You're brave like that."

"Not brave, practical. Makes it easier if people know that I can be anyone I want to be right off the bat." He shifted closer, huffing a lock of hair out of his face, smirking slightly as Tony's eyes tracked the languid movement of his lips. "A fight isn't fun if only one person's involved."

"You have a mighty hard time just being yourself, sugarplums," Tony laughed, smoothing the hair out of his face in one fluid motion. Showing the tattoo on his arm, just barely out of sight. "Can never really tell when you're feeling comfortable with yourself."

"Is that a bad thing?" Bucky asked, entirely not used to anyone other than Frank and Billy showing that they cared for him in any way. He was there to be used and discarded afterwards, it was how it went. He offered his services and someone took them and used his hands to bring someone, anyone, pain and then he left and he went home to his empty house. This, whatever it was, was a break in routine. Tony had handed it to him like a loaded gun. Did he have to shoot himself or another person? He had never had to decide before.

"The worst," Tony said, voice soft. "I can never tell if I'm doing a good job with you. I can't tell if you're having a good time or if you're just using me as a way to feel whole again."

"Doll," Bucky drawled, grin freezing on his face. "Not even you can make me feel whole again."

-

The next time Bucky saw him, Tony was splattered with blood and looking only mildly agitated.

He'd just come off a job involving an irritated client and a thankfully clean murder and had barely enough time to place his guns in the safe beneath his floorboards and scrape the blood from his body before rushing out of his house in search of food. Completing a job successfully meant he got to treat himself, treating himself meant picking up cheesecake and vanilla ice cream from the local supermarket at 2am.

Sure, he'd ran into a lot of interesting people, namely frank and that one drug dealer, but never Tony. Outside of the carefully contained bars and clubs he'd never seen him. Especially not as debauched as he was. Even then, his suit wrinkled and blood staining the white material of his shirt, Tony looked good enough to eat.

Bucky stood still, watching Tony from the entrance of the alleyway as the other man stripped off his shirt and wiped himself down, abandoning it with a grunt before pulling a bag of wet wipes out of his bag, swiping away the rest of the blood in quick, precise movements. He pulled on a dark t-shirt, figure hugging and soft-looking, peeling off his trousers and going through a similar routine. Finally, he abandoned his socks, lighting a match and setting the pile on fire.

"It's weird to just stand there Bucky," Tony teased, silhouetted against the light of the fire. "If you wanted a show you could have asked, I can put on a better one."

"Aren't you worried the fire will set off any nearby alarms?" Bucky refused to acknowledge the fact that he was blushing slightly, hand waving carelessly at the small fire.

"Minimal smoke so I'm not worried. I'm putting it out now anyways, just need to get rid of the clothes," Tony admitted, cracking open a bottle and dumping the contents on the fire, sweeping the remains off to the side with a discarded newspaper. "It's very clear what I was doing round here, but what about you? Too dressed down to be on the prowl, too dressed up to have been ran out of your house, too adorable-"

"Post-mission routine," he said, gesturing to the supermarket. "Marshmallows, cheesecake, ice-cream, coffee-"

"Sign me the fuck us then, I'm down for anything with coffee in it-"

"I'm not getting you coffee." Bucky sighed, finally moving his feet past the alleyway, his mind still trying to comprehend just how blinding Tony's smile was. Warm and bright and like sunshine in a completely different way than Bucky was used to.

"Never said you had to. Never said you had to get anything, I can pay for you." Tony grinned wider, flashing his wallet at Bucky and swinging an arm over his shoulder, bronzed fingers curling into his hair and tugging slightly, the faint scars barely visible in the flickering streetlight then suddenly stark and pale against his skin in the bright, artificial supermarket light that seemed to transport you to another universe.

"I'm not looking for someone to pay for everything, I'm perfectly capable," bucky protested, basket swinging I'm his hands, frown on his face even as tony licked the small strip behind his ear. "I'm not looking for you to be my sugar daddy or anything."

"I know, sugarplums. Not why I'm offering." Tony picked up another bag of marshmallows, flinging them into the bag, pushing bucky along before he even had a chance to lick them up. "I want to know you."

"There's nothing worth knowing about me other than my name is Bucky, I'm 29 years old and I'm Romanian."

"Your name isn't Bucky though, it's something beginning with J. Let's go out on a limb here and say Jamie?"

"James," he corrected. "James Buchanan."

"Named after the most boring president ever, your parents must have hated you," Tony joked, throwing a pack of cinnamon sugar pretzels into the basket.

"Oh they did, not why they named me James Buchanan." Bucky shifted at the indirect reminder that his parents actually hated him. He'd only been 18 and just out of high school when he'd left home and the fact his parents hadn't even looked for him had solidified the already rock hard thought. "They wanted to name me after a president, asked the nurse to pick a number and boom, that was my name."

"Wow," Tony said, reaching up and flashing a strip of his bronze flesh as he went to grab the chilli heatwave Doritos. "That's pretty impersonal."

"I don't care though. The past is in the past and as bad as it is on a whole, James Barnes is an OK name."

-

Bucky let tony up the stairs to his modest, one bedroom apartment, too preoccupied on the firm torso against his back to unlock the door without fumbling.

"Blowjob," he groaned, locking 2 of the 3 locks on the door. "I'm not sure I'm clean on the inside so a blowjob is all you're getting from me."

"You don't have to-" Tony started, hands stilling on Bucky's body as he set down the groceries with barely concealed apprehension. "I didn't come with you for sex."

"I know, but I'm good at it and I'm horny."

He sank to his knees, pulling down the band of Tony's sweatpants until they rested on his thighs comfortably. He shoved the man down onto the couch, kneeling between his legs as he smirked, fingers teasing along the hem of his boxers.

"If you're horny why don't I get you off? Seems like the logical thing to do in this situation."

"I want to get you off though, its just something I want to do but if you're so against it..."

He trailed off, slowly pulling down Tony's soft boxers to reveal the thick shaft of his cock, becoming impossibly slower when he reached the flushed, weeping head. Pre-cum beaded the slit, dripping down slowly  as Bucky watched it intently. It wasn't his first time sucking Tony's cock, nor would it be the last if he had his way, but he was certainly going to make the most of it.

He licked along the slit, wrapping his tongue around the head before placing one wet kiss to it, ignoring the tremors that ran through Tony's body and the tight hand in his hair.

He bobbed his head, relaxing his jaw and taking inch by inch down his throat, leaning into the hand curled around his jaw. "Yes, that's good," Tony groaned, thrusting gently, "you're mine aren't you? That mouth is mine, that hole is mine, that cock is mine to use as I please."

Bucky groaned, eyes closing as his nose hit Tony's pelvis. He withdrew, licking the underside of his cock as he went. "No James, I want to see those eyes on me Sugarplum. Only me."

Bucky moaned, the vibrations urging a moan out of Tony. No one had used his first name in a whole, no one had known his first name. The soft undercurrent of authority winding its way around every syllable just added to the feelings in his stomach. He reached down, prepared to pull down his sweatpants, when tony caught his trailing wrist, pushing him against the wall with both metal and flesh caught in his hand.

"You don't get to come," he growled. "You only get to come on my cock or when I allow it, and right now I don't allow it."

Bucky whimpered, relaxing his jaw even further as Tony's mercilessly thrust into the tight confines of his throat, pulsing and pulling as the hot pool in the pit of his stomach ebbed.

He stilled after a couple more thrust, spilling his cum down Bucky's throat with a tight groan, easing his soft cock out when he was sure it had stopped.

"God, darling. So fucking good for me aren't you?" He smiled as Bucky snapped his teeth with a wry smirk, dutifully tucking his cock back into the confines of his boxers. "Come on, show me to your couch. If you promise not to touch yourself I'll let you come."

Bucky stood slowly. "So what was all that talk about me not being allowed to come? All hokey wasn't it?"

"You were going to touch yourself, I can't have that and  besides, you always look so adorable when I tell you you can't come. Not that you're not adorable most of the time. My big, Romanian killer."

"I'm not yours," bucky interjected, voice barely audible. "I'm not yours and I'm not anybody else's."

Tony smirked, not unkindly, and cocked his head. "Who do your orgasms belong to?"

"I've messed around with you 3 or 4 times, my orgasms belong to my hand," he scoffed.

"Yes, you're right," Tony said quickly. "But you know nobody does it like I do."

He was right, he had always been right. Even afterwards, trapped between tony and the couch as the man rubbed loose circles around his hole with a hand on his cock, a little too tight, a little to rough, he was right. No one had ever been as good as him.

He tried to pretend he wasn't scared.

-

"Do you like to think this hard after sex?" Tony asked, rubbing Bucky's hip slowly.

It had been a slow night at the bar. Bucky had been more bad Bucky than good Bucky and couldn't help but threaten murder when some new guy had put his hand on his hip when he was setting down drinks.

He’d let it slide since Josie didn't like when he got blood on her floor, but when he'd slapped his ass at the end of Bucky's shift, he had no choice but to send the insufferable red-head reeling. It was satisfying, hitting someone and knowing you did damage. Even more satisfying hearing the crunch of a broken jaw and knowing he would not be getting up for a long time. He'd stepped on his hand on the way out though, just for fun. He'd always said he would break the hand that dared to touch him without permission.

Tony had followed him out, mile on his lips and jacket in hand, sidled up to him and wrapped a hand around his wrist as Bucky pulled him into a rough kiss. They’d ended up in his bed two hours later, thoroughly blissed out watching umbrella academy even though they both knew they’d both finished it ages ago.

“I don’t do well in the silence,” Bucky said, blinking lazily at Tony. “Call me what you want but the silence? Not my jam. I can’t stand it.”

“Why, if I may ask.” Tony shrugged, bare skin rubbing against Bucky’s as he contemplated even responding. He could fake indifference but it was already too late. He could t fake anything when his whole body was tensing and he was acutely aware of his hands shaking.

“The chamber and the chair. Hydra. They liked to- liked to strap you into the chair and fry you up real slow, enough to hurt but not do damage then off to isolation you went. The cryochamber where it was so fucking cold your tears could freeze on your cheeks if you could even cry. I tried to damage myself enough in there that they would let me out, my arm, ya know? Should try and rip out the circuits and the wires until I realised that they didn’t care and that it wasn’t like my arm wasn’t something they could just fix or replace. So I would rip out the plates-“

“Oh god,” Tony started, face ashen. “You don’t have to finish this, you don’t have to-“

“So I would rip out the plates and try to slash my hands, arms, thighs. Anywhere. So they would lock me in the straight jacket instead, noise cancelling headphones, a gag, a blindfold. If they needed to feed me they would come in and inject me with

nutrients until they were satisfied. It was silent. Always silent. Always dark and I could never feel anything.”

Tony leaned back, mouth working silently as he tapped his fingers on the edge of the mattress. “I’ll find them and I’ll kill them all for you, ok? I’m going to make them pay for what they did to you.”

“It’s ok, Tony. I’ve tried already. Some heads you just can’t take down.”

Later that week, the eye of Alexander Pierce was delivered to him in a box. The next day news about the fall of Hydra was singing through the streets.

-

“You did that, didn’t you?” Bucky asked, sipping on a glass of wine as he let Tony wipe the last of the blood off of him. “You went and destroyed them in what? 5 days?”

“4 days and a night, actually. Needed some time to plan before I took down each head.” He shrugged, throwing the rag into the bin with deft accuracy. “They we’re getting annoying. Pierce looked so smug at every fucking meeting, it was a gift to myself, taking down his pitiful organisation.”

“His pitiful organisation tortured me for almost 7 years. I was 18 when they got me. 18 years old. I was 23 when they let me work as a regular agent and not as a debtor to Hydra.” Bucky sat up, flashing his metal arm at Tony. “That pitiful organisation cut off what was left of my arm and sometimes, at the start, they would pull it out and poke me wit it, that pitiful-“

“It was pitiful, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t cruel,” Tony amended. “They were cruel to you and to others for no reason. That’s why they had to go, they touched you and I couldn’t have that.”

“I’m not yours, remember?” Bucky laughed, downing the rest of his wine, sighing when only finished bandaging up his flesh hand. “I’m not yours and I’m not anyone’s. I belong to-“

“Yourself? Yeah, I got that. But after months of sex can’t you say that you feel something? Anything?” Tony leaned back in the bed, eyes downcast. “I like you, I want to have something real with you-“

“I’m too fucked up for that to ever happen,” Bucky persisted,  going to take the bottle of wine from Tony. “I don’t even know if I’m fucking happy with myself. I can’t sit back and say I love someone if I’m not even sure I love myself. I punched a mirror Tony-“ he gestured to his hand “- because I couldn’t stand the sight of what I saw.”

“I’m not asking for love,” Tony continued. “I’m just asking for you.”

“How could you say that? How could you even say that? How could you sit here and say you’ll take me even if I never love you.” Bucky shook his head sadly, bloody hands curling around Tony’s, barely staining the black sheets with his blood. Tony gripped his hand back, not too tight, but tight enough for him to feel the whisper of pain that came with bloody knuckles.

It was comforting, but not. Comforting knowing that no matter what he said or done, Tony would be there to hold his hand and tell him he was ok. Not comforting for that exact reason. It was hard to accept someone like that when you hadn’t even learnt to accept yourself, your past, your future. He hadn’t even learnt to accept the fact that Hydra had permanently fucked him up beyond use, beyond reasoning,

“It’s not the first time I’ve heard those words, but this time?” Tony smiled sadly. “They don’t even matter, not when you say them.”

-

“Hey Tony?” Bucky uttered,heart in his throat. “You’re not exactly any regular mechanic are you?”

“I figured that after living with me for a month or two, you would find out,” Tony shrugged, taking another big sip of coffee. “Fill up my cup please, baby. Daddy’s going to need a lot of coffee for this conversation.”

Bucky blushed, and mumbled “you’re not my dad,” thinking of the needles and pills that made his dad his dad and staunchly decided he could never associate Tony with that man ever. Not when Tony refused to scare him with talk of heavy drugs. Not when Tony, as rough as he got, never fully bound him if he couldn’t get out, never blindfolded him or gagged him with rope, never made it so he could never hear.

(He couldn’t, he wouldn’t associate him with a man that had Bucky call him father before he threw him into the chamber and left him to freeze)

“Ironman?” He asked, handing Tony his coffee with a quirk of his eyebrow. “I read your papers. Your last name, Stark. The announcement of the dispatch of helllsquad one into the main Hydra facility. The confirmation of one Alexander Pierce and one Armin Zola, dead.”

“This is not how I wanted you to find out. I was hoping you would see the next papers.”

“Oh I did, the termination of Edward Lovelace. Better known as the ‘freckled fucking horror’-“

“That’s what this one dude called him before he killed him. Never knew why.” Tony shrugged.

“Better known as the guy that slapped Bucky Hubbard’s ass and barely survived too tell the tale then once he told the tale, died.” Bucky leaned against the counter, taking a swing of Tony’s coffee before cringing at the bitter taste. “As courtesy of Frankie.”

“Castle, I know him.” Tony admitted. “Nice guy, if not a little tragic.”

“What’s your fucking game?” Bucky said, leaning in real close and glaring at him, a twinge of agony sounding deep inside him. “I grew to fucking- fucking l-“

“Love? Loath? Spit it out sugarplums. No use trying to conserve my heart now that I know you’re leaving in the morning.”

“I grew too love you, Tony. And I’m only leaving in the morning if you want me to, that’s how it’s always been,” Bucky sighed, letting himself move back with a tired sigh. “If you want me to leave I’m going, but if not? If you want me to stay, I’ll stay. For you.”

“That’s all I ask for,” Tony saiid, leaning in to press a kiss to Bucky’s cheek, lips warm against his bruised cheek. “And I love you to, for the record. I’ve loved you since you Brooke dead old Eddie’s fingers in that bar.”

“Kind of sick, even for you old man.”

“Well I’m your old man, and your mine. You’re mine this time.”

“Yeah,” Bucky conceded. “I’m yours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of disappointing and anti-climatic but I’m defo going to do something about this when I’m not so swamped. It’s the first thing I’ve written in a good while so I’m a little rusty. Since I finished my series I’ve been browsing through the tags and fandoms on this site and let me tell you... amazing works are out there.
> 
> Spoilers for umbrella academy ahead:
> 
> Also, instead of writing the whole of yesterday like I should have been, I marathoner the whole of umbrella academy. I love it. Like with all my heart. Klaus and Diego and 5 and Ben are definitely my favourite and I was crying throughout every scene with Dave and when klaus got sober I was sobbing so hard. Also can everyone agree with me that papa Hargreeves was the shittiest father like he locked klaus in the mausoleum and put vanya in the fucking room and sent Luther to space and it was all so horrible for them when they were children like seriously fuck him.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this brain vomit of mildly pleasing words. ❤️❤️❤️


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